First of all, I’m REALLY sorry for neglecting all you lovely people who have left comments on the blog over the last week.
I pride myself on visiting your blogs when you comment and also returning those comments, so I’m a little angry with myself right now.
It wouldn’t be a proper Chick Named Hermia post if I wasn’t over-dramatic.
*begins the self-flogging and hand-wringing*
Anyway, with being up in Belfast last weekend for the IBAs, viewing potential houses every evening and The Boy’s granny being in hospital, time has been scarce.
Actually thank you so much for all the well-wishing tweets and texts for his granny…she’s making nothing short of a miraculous recovery right now, so fingers crossed she keeps going in that direction.
I’m heading to Paris for the next few days to visit The Boy’s French granny, who is also sick right now so I’ll be MIA until next Tuesday.
And then I’ll be busy preparing for the big move into mine and The Boy’s first (rented) house.
Three bedrooms and a big garden: we won’t know what to do with ourselves!
I’m really excited!
When we moved into our apartment, it was perfectly decorated so we never got to do anything to make it really feel like home.
This new place looks like it belongs in the seventies though, so we’ll be shopping for paint and carpet and all sorts of home-making goodies.
I’m desperately in need of a creative project.
Plus, The Boy has bestowed one of the bedrooms on me so I can have my own little office.
This is in return for me allowing us to get a few sports channels.
We haven’t signed anything yet, so hopefully nothing mental happens between now and next weekend when we had over the deposit that makes the landlady stop loving us…and by ‘us’, I mean The Boy…